


All I Want is Your Touch

by Ljparis



Series: Starflowers & Scoundrels [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alderaan, Coruscant, F/M, Flirting, Kissing, Royalty, Sexual Tension, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-22 01:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13156794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ljparis/pseuds/Ljparis
Summary: All Breha Organa wants is for Bail Antilles to touch her; he wants the same thing -- a story in four short parts.





	1. The Opera

Breha Organa wasn't Force-sensitive. From a very young age, she wished she were. To be a Jedi Knight would have been incredible. She supposed if she couldn't be a Jedi, a princess would have to do. Eventually a queen. Sometimes, though, she still wished she knew what it was like to feel the Force.

Sitting beside Bail Antilles in the Alderaanian state box at the Coruscant Opera, for the first time Breha had an inkling what it might be like to be Force-sensitive. Though he wasn't touching her - in fact, the space between them was more than an acceptable amount - it felt like he was. The air between their legs on seats next to each other cackled with - _something_. Something intangible. Something that made the hair on Breha's arms prickle and her stomach somersault. 

She didn't know what was worse - his not yet touching her, the anticipation of him hopefully touching her, or his eventual touch. Breha shivered all over and tried as hard as she could to focus on the performance before her. 

But honestly, she couldn't tell you the name of the opera or any of the characters. She couldn't tell you how long the show had been going on or any of the words that she'd heard. She could, however, describe in minute detail the feeling of her pulse thumping on the side of her neck or the way all of her senses were heightened and in tune with Bail. 

He smelled woodsy and clean, with a hint of sweetness (was that the scent of ripe starblossoms?). He had neatly trimmed his goatee that evening, and she could see a small nick at the edge of his jaw that he had probably hastily dabbed with ointment before leaving his apartment. The muscles of his neck and shoulders were tense under his jacket, and Breha wanted to smooth her hands against them, help him relax. His fingers clenched and unclenched against the side of his thigh as he watched the performance. 

As Breha watched _him_.

All she could think about was him touching her. Or her touching him. At this point, it didn't really matter. What did matter was that although they were alone in the private Alderaanian box, they weren't truly _alone_. At any moment, a droid or someone else could pop in to see if they needed something. Not to mention, as one of the core worlds, Alderaan was usually visible, and the box was as well. Nearly anyone in attendance that evening could turn and train their gaze on this box, on its occupants. It wouldn't do for anyone to catch sight of the two of them being anything except completely appropriate.

_Stars_ , did Breha Organa want to be everything except appropriate with Bail Antilles.

She cleared her throat and forced her attention away from him. She could already see the gossip holos the next morning: "Princess of Alderaan Can't Take Eyes Off Scoundrel Senator." Followed by all of the speculation about how long it would be before she was left with a broken heart, hurrying back to Alderaan with her proverbial tail between her legs.

What if she _wanted_ him to ravish her and break her heart, hmn? She nearly snorted at the thought, covered it up with another clearing of her throat and a short cough.

"Can I get you something to drink, princess?" Bail's whisper caressed her ear.

Her mouth went dry. When had he leaned in even closer to her? She knew he wasn't touching her, and yet that was all she could feel. Carefully, she inclined her head to glance at him, smiling lightly. "I'm fine," she said. She smoothed her hands against the soft material of her dress over her thighs. "Thank you."

When his hand came down over hers, stilling her nervous movement, she almost stopped breathing. If not for the regulatory control of her pulmonodes, she might have. He pressed his palm against the back of her hand then turned it until she turned hers too. He interlaced his fingers with hers. Every nerve-ending in her body ignited. 

If this was what it was like to be Force-sensitive, then maybe she ought to just call herself Bail-sensitive.

She turned and smiled at him, found him looking right back at her. She held her gaze to his for a moment longer than maybe she should have and then returned her failing attention back to the opera. But she certainly didn't let go of his hand, instead allowing his touch to sear her own skin and warm her entire self up.


	2. The Lift

Bail worked very hard all evening to be the perfect gentleman, especially considering that the two of them were on a very public outing together. A date, if you will, even though they couldn't call it that, not without a proper courtship announcement attached to it, and Breha hadn't brought that up yet. Bail wasn't certain she would. (He hadn't been thinking about it at all, no, not at all.)

So though he took her hand discreetly during the opera performance, he didn't hold onto it as they left the opera house, and he hadn't picked it back up on the short walk back to the Alderaanian consulate, and he hadn't taken it as they walked inside and crossed the open, ornate lobby for the lift on the other side. Too many of their people were milling about, hopeful, certainly, to catch a glimpse of their princess and senator. If he was with any other woman, he might have been tempted to give the onlookers a show, but this was _Breha_ , his princess.

As they stepped up to the lift though, waiting for the doors to glide open, Bail couldn't help but move his hand to her, his fingers hovering for a moment in the air behind her before brushing against the middle of her back through the thin material of her gown. He left his hand there as they walked together into the waiting lift.

Once the doors closed and they were left there alone for the minute it would take to rise to the royal apartments, Bail forgot to breathe. He spread his hand out, palm down, against the middle of Breha's back, and she leaned into his touch. His fingertips brushed the bare skin just above her dress, and he both felt and heard her sharp intake of breath.

He pressed his thumb against her skin, warm and soft to his touch, suddenly glad that he refused the aristocratic tradition of wearing gloves. The touch wouldn't feel nearly as electric as it did with that much material between them. If the pad of his thumb ignited the rest of him with a touch like this, how much more would he feel - would they both feel, he suspected - if he could touch more of her with more of him.

"Princess," he said, causing her to step away slightly and lift her gaze up to his. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted as she breathed unevenly, and her eyes were dark. Bail hadn't stopped thinking about kissing her since they were last together on Alderaan, a month prior. Breha looking up at him like that was all he needed as encouragement to lean down toward her again.

Her hand came up to his chest, holding him steady, keeping him at bay. "Senator," she replied, clearing her throat. She curled his fingers against his chest, her knuckle rubbing against one of the brass buttons of his cloak. 

"Hmn?" he asked, lips pursed. He looked down at her hand against him and then at her again. Really, at her mouth.

"This lift trip is not nearly long enough for _this_ ," she whispered.

While he disagreed with her - this lift ride was the perfect opportunity for a clandestine and hurried kiss or two - he didn't push her. "Of course, your highness," he said, his voice hoarse. He didn't step away from her and he noticed that she didn't remove her hand from his chest either. He took the opportunity to cover her hand with his own, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles and down to her wrist.

Breha's tongue slipped out to wet her lips, and her breathing quickened. Bail lifted his other hand to touch her jaw just as the lift door opened and she immediately stepped away, severing all contact. She cleared her throat, inclining her head but not looking at him as she stepped out of the life, her shoulders squared.

If Bail hadn't just watched her flustered and on the verge of coming undone, he wouldn't think she was anything other than completely composed. A moment later, he stepped out after her, keeping his hands to himself.


	3. The Doorway

His respect of her and her position didn't go unnoticed by Breha. How could it not, when every touch was calculated, hesitant even at times. 

The entire walk back to the consulate, Breha imagined what would happen once they were alone in the lift, if he would press her back against the wall, bend down and kiss her as senseless as he had back on Alderaan with him. But he hadn't. That didn't mean he hadn't _wanted_ to. She knew he had. She might have let him too. Perhaps if she wasn't who she was, if she wasn't a future queen.

For all too brief a moment she had entertained the idea that she didn't have to be a princess with him, that he might treat her the same way he treated any other being of his acquaintance in this same position. She entertained the idea of letting him. Then her hand had come up to stop him and the lift doors had opened, the moment passed.

The fact was, she _was_ a future queen, they weren't officially in a courtship, and even here at the Alderaanian consulate, someone was always watching. 

Breha stopped just outside the door to her wing of the royal apartments, settling one hand on the smooth wall as she turned to look at Bail. "Thank you, Senator," she said carefully, lifting her gaze to meet his. "I had a very nice time tonight."

"I did as well, princess," he said. Bail reached out to brush the side of his hand against her jaw. She couldn't keep herself from leaning up into his touch. When he bent down to press his mouth against her cheek chastely, she held her breath and her eyes fluttered shut. He murmured her name. Her _given_ name. The word on his tongue, the way he softly pressed into the letters, his hot breath hitting the second syllable, made her shiver. 

"Bail," she whispered. She lifted a hand up to his arm, curled her fingers around him, into the stiff fabric of his cloak. She swallowed as he stepped closer. Her back slid against the wall beside the door. 

"I'd like to take you out again," he told her, keeping his voice low. He was standing so close, close enough to kiss, to cling to, but neither of them closed that last bit of space between them. He dropped his hand from her jaw and settled it easily over her hip. "If you'd like to, I mean."

While her time and company was usually dictated by herself and her status, she appreciated him asking her. She supposed she could have asked him - and she had, of course, asked him to the opera in the first place - but she liked that he was forward enough to do it himself. It meant he was interested, that he wasn't acquiescing because she was his monarch. It made her feel, almost, normal.

"I would," she said, the words sliding out hoarsely. "Soon?"

He smiled. "Yes," he told her. His thumb pressed into her hip possessively, and a thrill shot up her spine. His gaze dropped back to her mouth, but he held himself back. 

Though the hallway outside of the royal apartment was empty, it wasn't _really_. Security cameras lined it, and her royal guard was within shouting distance. In fact, they were probably watching this entire exchange right now, and the thought took her out of the moment.

Breha turned her face away from Bail, holding her chin steady. "I will be upfront when I ask you this, Senator," she said after a moment. "I would like you to come inside with me. I'm not asking you to spend the night or even to see my bedroom, but I do feel as though we can't possibly continue like this while we're here in the hallway."

She felt his arm tense and turned to glance up at him again, finding his jaw set and his eyes dark.

"Would you care to continue this - conversation - inside?" Breha asked lightly, moving her hand back to his chest, her fingertips settling lightly against the bare skin of his throat above the collar of his cloak.

"I would, your highness," he said in a tight voice.

She licked her lips, held his gaze, and then smiled and ducked away from him to put in her access codes. The door slid open and she stepped inside. She turned back to look at him and, with only a slight nod of her head, beckoned him to join her.


	4. The Kiss

It was possible that Bail stopped breathing entirely from the time he agreed to join her in the royal apartments to when he stepped in after her, the door closing behind him. It had taken every ounce of his will power not to kiss her at the opera, in the lift, just outside of this apartment. Now, though, it seemed as though all the barriers that were between them were gone. Not only that, but she had invited him in. She _wanted_ him to kiss her, tonight, here, _now_.

Ever composed (how did she manage it, Bail wondered), Breha stopped in the middle of the room and looked at him. "Would you care for something to drink, senator?" she asked, her voice unwavering.

He wanted to unravel her like a string, hear the catch in her voice, her words stuck somewhere in her throat. He wanted to see her get flustered. He wanted his touch to set her aflame.

"No," Bail said carefully, "thank you."

She set her shoulders back. "All right, because it wouldn't be a problem at all. I know how to pour a glass of - whatever it is you'd like to drink," Breha said. "I'm perfectly capable -"

Bail crossed the room more quickly than was appropriate. He cut off whatever time-wasting conversation she was trying to have as he brought his hands up to the sides of her neck, his thumb tilting her chin up to look at him. Without letting another moment pass between them, he bent down to kiss her. 

Her pleasant gasp was lost against his mouth as he kissed her, his lips sliding over hers, asking for entrance. As she parted her lips, he deepened the kiss, tasting the sweetness of the champagne she'd enjoyed during the opera lingering still on her tongue. His fingertips brushed past the edge of her hairline, swept over the back of her neck and pressed down her back as he pulled her in against him.

Breha was the first of the the two of them to begin removing clothes, even if it was only Bail's cloak. Though her hands were squashed between them, she managed to get it unclasped, pushed it over his shoulders until it hit the floor behind him. She replaced her hands on his shoulders, lifting herself up on her toes to kiss him just as eagerly as he was kissing her.

There wasn't an immense height difference between the two of them but there was enough of one that Bail thought they would both be infinitely more comfortable somewhere else. He pulled back, slowly, minisculely, only enough to catch his breath and nudge her a few steps to her side until her back hit the edge of a table or a cabinet or whatever. Bail didn't care what it was, just that she could be lifted easily up onto it, which he did with only a little grunt. (If asked, the grunt was attraction, not aggravation.)

She gave an adorable squeal and flopped an arm around the middle of his back to steady herself. Laughing, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder. Bail smiled and pressed his mouth against the top of her head, in a space between all of her braids, where he could breathe her in slowly. His hands came to rest on her hips, his body angled in against hers even though all the material of her dress was in the way. 

When she turned her face into his neck and he felt her lips, hot and wet, open and close, suckling gently, against his bare skin, he almost fell forward against her. Her hand curled against his abdomen, slightly _lower_ than that, and he forgot how to think. The next word out of his mouth was an Alderaanian curse word he never should have used in the presence of his princess.

Her smile caused her teeth to graze his neck, and when she lifted her head to look at him, eyes dancing, dark and filled with lust, she was smiling. "Now, senator," she teased, "there's no need for that kind of language, is there?"

He kissed her again, sucking on her lower lip until she whimpered into his mouth, then pulled back, just a little. His forehead tipped against hers and he could nearly feel her mouth against his still. "I would apologize, princess," he said, "but I meant it as the highest compliment."

She smiled. "I have to say how pleased I am that I can make you melt like this," Breha whispered. 

"Weak in the knees," he agreed, putting some of his weight against her, against the table she was perched on. "Wanting you," he let slip out. He felt her breath catch, slid his hands carefully up her sides, his palms steady as they curved in to touch her stomach, her rib cages, a little bit higher until she let out a tight sound, something between a gasp and a moan. He noticed the colors of her pulmonodes go from a steady yellow to a pulsing red. His hands stilled "Princess?"

Her hand came down against his wrist, grasping it tightly. It took her a moment before she responded. She pressed her cheek against his jaw, closing her eyes. Her fingers dug into the back of his head. "This is dangerous," she said hoarsely.

He didn't know what precisely she meant, but he agreed nonetheless. Carefully, he stepped back from her, brushing past her hips and over her knees, until he wasn't touching her at all anymore. "When are you returning to Alderaan?" he asked, his voice sounding out loud as strangled as he felt inside.

"In two days," she told him, sitting up straight, her hands over her lap, fingers interlaced tightly. "Will you be coming home any time soon?" she asked, hopeful.

"Yes. If I'm given reason to." It was as close as he could come to asking her about their next steps. His station was high enough that he understood the courtship customs, but hers was higher than his. Initiating the next step had to be on her; they both knew that. 

He reached out to take her hand in his, brought it up to his mouth, kisses the inside of her wrist with his mouth open, his teeth bared. He lingered, looking at her. She opened her hand against his jaw and nodded. "I'd like to to come home soon, Bail," she said firmly.

He nodded. "Then I'll make the necessary plans, your highness."

She met his gaze and nodded as well. "I look forward to it, senator."

Bail leaned forward and kissed her again, slowly. He kept his distance and his hands to himself, moaned when he felt her fingers in his hair. He could have kept this up all evening, but he forced himself to pull away again. "Have a good night, princess," he said. He kissed her forehead and then moved away swiftly. He backed up a few steps, not taking his eyes off of her, before turning and exiting the apartment, the door closing behind him.

For a moment, he stood there, one shoulder hitched against the door. He rubbed his jaw, considered knocking and asking to come back in (she probably wouldn't object), but ultimately decided it would be better if he left. He'd see her again soon, he reminded himself, and when that happened, more of this was sure to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this short series. More to come in the _Staflowers & Scoundrels_ series, I promise!
> 
> If you have any prompts you're interested in seeing me write for everyone's favorite Alderaanian couple, please feel free to send them my way via tumblr. You can find me at **helloljparis** there!


End file.
